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Juliette the Super Tramp - Chapter 16
That very evening I welcomed my first visitors, but alas they may have enjoyed what they did, but I derived no pleasure and a great deal of frustration. The evidence was plain to see and the nurse who checked on my progress was quick to indicate on my chart that I had been involved in sexual congress with a number of men that previous night. My now distant health care provider breezed in some hours later, took one look at the chart and proceeded to read me the riot act as if I was under any control of the situation.
" Despite everything, you remain an unreconstructed whore; one that does not merit my attention or concern. I am turning you over to my colleague, Dr. Dunne in hopes that her approach can jolt you from this death spiral you currently seem to be enjoying. I am very disappointed in you and it will take a considerable effort on your part to get back into my good graces."
With those scathing words she temporarily ended our relationship and flounced out the door, leaving me at the mercy of Dr. Dunne who I knew would make me suffer the torments of the damned and perhaps even beyond, considering my proclivities for pain and sex. The good doctor wasted no time asserting herself. Less than thirty minutes after losing my guide and confidant she made her first move.
A burly black orderly accompanied by a heavyset nurse in her mid fifties paid me a visit. In normal times I would have ignored the nurse and attacked the black man and his huge cock, promising him the ride of his life for as long as he wanted. Alas, I was in no condition for any fun and games. These two proved to be a humorless pair, the orderly unlocking the bonds holding my legs to the bed corners, while the nurse got busy preparing an enema for yours truly, the first of what would prove to be many; more than I could count or remember. Soon my ankles were anchored to the same bed supports as my wrists, a rather uncomfortable position especially considering that the sex act was not to be involved.
Staring into that bright light for hours on end had made my vision rather blurred, so I wasn't sure exactly what that large, bulging red bag contained. The bag hung from some kind of a stand on wheels that was rolled over to my bed by the orderly. The nurse leaned over and whispered that the contents of this enema would take most of the fight and insubordination from me. In the event that it didn't, I'd take another and then another until she was satisfied that I had calmed down and would cease to be a troublemaker. I was astonished to hear these words. What trouble could I cause securely restrained to this bed? Obviously I was about to get my first lesson in humility, regardless of what I was told by this harridan. I sighed and waited for my lesson to begin, wondering if there would be a pop quiz afterward.
In my life as a pain slut I've had opportunities to take the waters as the enema fans like to describe the process. The type of pain is rather sophisticated if the one administering the enema knows his or her stuff. The contents are the major factor in getting off on this esoteric form of abuse. Great care has to be observed in selecting what goes into the bag and how much goes inside the one taking the waters. Some I took resulted in making me act as if I was wired for sound, not a bad description. Others gave me intense hangovers as alcohol can be rapidly absorbed into the blood stream by use of an enema. Once I was foolish enough to allow a recreational drug I'd never used previously to be part of a huge enema I took and held for the better part of an hour while a number of men with large sex organs took turns warping my cunt. I had flashbacks for weeks and seemed to be living in some kind of a large spider's web the entire time.
This background has made me rather leery of what goes into any enema I take, even ones given by professionals in a hospital environment such as this one. Unfortunately the large rubber ball gag that was my constant companion prevented me from interrogating the nurse preparing the punishment bag. Thus I hoped for the best and planned for the worst. It turned out to be closer to the latter condition.
My estimate of the situation argued that it would be almost impossible to avoid providing me with some delicious pain. So I lay back, as if there was any other choice, and waited for the first wave of pain to be generated by whatever was in that big red bag. For what seemed like the longest time it was a standstill. My belly was swelling nicely and it was beginning to get a bit difficult to take a deep breath. On my scorecard I was winning. My nurse-administrator gave me a quick grimace disguised as a smile and abruptly stopped the flow, leaving me hanging. At a signal from her the orderly produced a bedpan and I was allowed to evacuate, much to my disappointment. The routine went through a second cycle and the same result occurred, making me most frustrated. I was so busy plotting and scheming for another chance that I failed to notice what the nurse added to the bag this time.
Dry ice or frozen carbon dioxide if you're into technical terms is extremely cold; so cold that it can burn the skin right off one's body if you come in direct contact with it. That was item that my dear old caring nurse added to the enema bag. The water began to bubble furiously as the two elements fought for control of the enema bag. You can only imagine what happened when this bubbling mess was introduced into my lower intestine. All hell broke loose, and it wasn't pretty. The battle was waged at a much greater differential this time, my body being a large source of heat. The sensations were fantastic and very frightening. It felt as if there were micro-midgets trapped in my lower bowel using tiny hammers on the walls of my intestines.
The feeling grew as the battle for supremacy escalated. I began sweating from fear, no perhaps more like terror. Would it be possible for this chemical activity to rupture my insides leading to a horrible death? I wished I could close my eyes and wish this all away, but such was not the case. I pleaded for mercy with my one good eye, winking it as a signal. My enemy merely laughed and pumped up the sleeve preventing the gas from escaping from my bowels. At last just as I started to make my peace with whatever made me, she relented. My opponent had won the battle overwhelmingly and all this pain slut could do was hand over her weapons, such as they were and hope for the best. It was a crushing defeat for me. Fear triumphs over pain, a new paradigm.
A second dry ice enema sealed my fate despite the fact that I had experienced it once and lived to tell about it. My jailer-nurse-torturer went out of her way to give me the full treatment. First there was the wild bubbling and rising gas exploding from the top of the enema bag. I watched in fascination mixed with fear as she inserted the thick nozzle into my anus and pumped up the collar that would prevent it from being expelled. My signaling was ignored this time. I was horrified to see that she and the orderly were engaged in a conversation and no one was tending to the enema bag that was inflating from all the gas that was being generated.
Then she did a terrible thing. With tongs she picked up a good-sized piece of dry ice and added it to the frothing enema bag. I capitulated and signaled my utter and absolute defeat by wetting the bed upon which I was restrained. The orderly was not amused and I paid a penalty here and now and later a much sterner punishment quite late in the evening when no one of rank was around to make sure that nothing exceptional was being done to troublemakers such as myself. In a sense my penalty was almost an example of poetic justice. What better way to make me pay for this serious breach of decorum than to force me to ingest the contents of the bedpan that captured my second voiding? My nurse was delighted to witness my utter degradation. Her only regret was that Dr. Dunne wasn't here to witness it as well. It didn't help matters to have that awful ball gag stuffed back into my mouth. Now I had a new fear for concern.
What happens if I lose my composure and begin trying to vomit up the contents of my bulging belly? My nurse grinned evilly and answered that probably I'd become another sad accident for the hospital's files. I was petrified! Then she added the saving argument that she was going to administer an IV of a strong diuretic to make sure I speedily eliminated the waste products they fed to me. She promised to look in on me in another hour or two to see how I was progressing. What she deliberately forgot to mention was that my catheter was closed and would remain in that position until she checked in on me just before the end of her shift. I was so screwed it was embarrassing! She and the orderly departed leaving me to marinate in my own wastes. Another orderly would get this assignment and I hoped that he'd lose his temper over this injustice and give me a nice chunk of pain to chew and swallow.
In my brief life as a pain slut and all round whore I'd had occasion to allow my partner or partners the opportunity to torture my bladder and surrounding environs. Few had anything original to do to the poor organ except to see how much it could be expanded and for how long. My screams and general deportment were always used as a guide. Some preferred to use catheters to inject whatever mixture they had dreamed up for my bladder to contain. I had a hard and fast rule on that matter. I would have to sample the contents to determine if it could be allowed into my bladder. You'd be astonished at some of the liquids they offered for me to taste. Others liked to make me swallow large amounts of water, tea or coffee to get my kidneys churning and while they were churning they'd use the time to beat the devil out of me with a rubber hose or cane, depending upon their mood and how much punishment I'd already absorbed in the session. I always enjoyed that type of torture since there was always something to further anticipate once they tired of beating me like a drum. The absolute best was when my bladder was filled to capacity and my back teeth were floating while some stud with a huge cock was fucking me so hard and fast my eyes crossed. That was fun with a capital F.
To say I was uncomfortable would be an understatement. My bladder had reached its limit some time ago and my kidneys were straining to handle the regular plus the back flow. The old hag grinned and pressed her hand on my bulging bladder, bringing a long drawn out groan from behind the rubber ball gag that was covered with my drool.
" The orderly who'll come to change your bedding is less than enchanted with your behavior and I'd imagine he'll have a few choice comments to make to you and perhaps more if I know him. I'll see you tomorrow that is if you survive the night. My counterpart, nurse Wilson, runs a rather loose ship if you get my drift. There are all sorts of comings and goings on her shift. I'm sure you'll be visited by a number of people you have never seen before, but in time you'll remember each one including his nickname. My favorite is "cunt crusher", it's so crude and yet so very accurate based on the number of female patients that have required emergency treatment after one of his visits."
She turned to leave the room and I went a little bonkers. I tried everything I knew to get her attention. My nurse had forgotten to open the catheter, or perhaps decided that a few more hours of punishment were mandated. I'd never survive such treatment. The door to my room shut behind her leaving me with the realization that my kidneys might fail in time or allow uremic acid from my backed up waste to get into my blood stream, tantamount to serious damage or even death. My only hope now was the orderly who might show up at any time and possibly assist me in my hour of need. By the time he arrived, a large black man with a scar on one cheek, I was nearly insane from fear. I looked up at his stern face with my one good eye that was now blurred from staring at that damned light. I moved my body as much as the bonds would allow and prayed for relief to any god that might hear me.
" You the dame that likes to pee in her bed and expect old Nathan to clean it up? This the last time you do this to old Nathan. Next time you gonna hurt real bad and nobody gonna know except me and you, and you ain't gonna be able to talk after old Nathan stuffs them piss soaked sheets down your stupid white girl throat. You know what I said or do I have to hurt you where it ain't gonna show? "
Part of me was petrified with fear at his threats, but most of me wanted him to do his worst. I'd take whatever it was as long as the pain level was high and continuous, none of this pat on the butt and sin no more crap! This white girl was ready for the real thing and plenty of it. He reached in his pocket and out came the keys to my manacles. Secretly I was hoping for a rubber hose to go with his bad attitude. He shook his finger at me like I was a naughty schoolgirl and warned me of the consequences of disobeying him while he changed the bedding. By now I was so used to being naked that I'd almost forgot how to entice a man with my big tits, shaved pussy, round ass and willing smile. I turned myself on like a big electric light bulb and got no response, as my target was too busy changing the sheets that sort of embarrassed me all over again.
By the time there were fresh sheets on my bed, I was hopping up and down from one foot to the other thanks to my bloated bladder. Old Nathan had made sure I wasn't going anywhere by cuffing my hands behind my back and threatening to ruin me for life if I tried to escape from the room. Finally took pity on me once I was on my back, wrists and ankles once more attached by metal cuffs to the bed. I heaved a sigh of relief as the orange colored piss from my bladder began flowing into the collection bottle. All was once more right with the world. Nathan headed for the door leaving me to cope with the damned light bulb. Just before he unlocked the door he turned and grinned.
" Me and some friends will be seeing you later on this night. Hope you ready for it, cause it's gonna hurt and hurt bad. "
At long last, I could hardly wait for my pain and sex fix. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all?
(To be continued - lex ludite)
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